Cinnamon
by Miss Celsius
Summary: ItaSaku:: When forced to move into a new apartment, Itachi did not know what would kill him first: the deplorable location or the maddening smell of cinnamon coming from next door. AU.


Here is just a short one-shot; my inspiration from Lady Kyoshoku's prompt 'cinnamon'.

There is a little OOC-ness, but it's just supposed to be cute. Hehe. Enjoy!

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**Cinnamon **

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Never in his twenty-three years did Uchiha Itachi imagine his life would turn out like this. Granted, it was not terrible in contrast to others—he was enrolled in college, had an ill-paying job, and had enough, at least, to move into an apartment today. However, he supposed he would not be blamed all that much if people knew that just twenty-four hours ago, he had been sitting pretty in an estate as the heir to a well-to-do enterprise, as a vast understatement.

His whole life had been carved out for him. Yet, Itachi believed firmly in creating his own path, and ever since he was a boy, plagued with depression and aided by his doctors, he had dreamed of becoming a psychologist and helping people as he had been helped. Father dearest did not agree so much with his career aspiration, given he had spent much of the young man's twenty-three years polishing him to inherit his company.

The spine he had forced to grow out of the timid boy of four had finally come back to bite Uchiha Fugaku. And he, being set in his ways and having another son who had craved his elder brother's place, had no qualms kicking Itachi from his home. All he had was the belongings he had amassed over the years, a free-ride through college where he had been taking the courses he wanted—that, at least, was good—and a job that allowed him to save up enough to buy his own place.

As a man used to living in nothing less that luxury, this place was simply _dreadful_.

The lighting was poor; the air conditioning was, as he had learned, broken. The spigots leaked and nearly everything creaked and wailed as if it would crumble under any kind of touch. His furniture looked a bit out of place amongst everything, being at least marginally nice. All in all, despite its condition, it was at least manageable.

But nothing would, in his mind, be able to fix the problem of the barren, peeling walls that were so thin, he could hear his neighbors to the right fighting and doing gods-knew-what while the man above him must have been wearing leaden boots while hopping around his home.

Though he was closed in, the lack of privacy was suffocating; he felt every breath he took would be a disturbance, yet in the back of his mind, he was bitter enough not to care. His situation was less than ideal, and they were loud enough to wake the dead. The only person he cared for among them, without having met or seen a one, was the neighbor to his left. He or she or they had not made a sound.

Itachi let out a heavy sigh as he slumped down on the chair that had been moved into the small, relatively empty room. His fingers ran through his slightly mussed hair, and he did not care much about the sweat beaded on his forehead and in the strands of his bangs; it was unbearably hot and the pile of boxes growing around him had been taxing to build. He honestly dreaded the unpacking stages… It was almost better to leave them—surely, his father would see reason soon…

There was no good in wallowing in self-pity. It was best to dwell on positive things, to ward off his discomfort and the pangs of hunger that were beginning to grip him. There was no food in the house, and he would not be paid until tomorrow; no amount of pining would get him through. It would only make it worse. The young man parted his lips, leaned his head back and slid down into his chair as sleepiness from the long few days began to descend upon him.

It could not have been more than a minute when suddenly, piercing through his dreams, the smell of something decidedly sweet began wafting steadily through his vent. His eyes fluttered a bit, as if perplexed by the intrusion, and he sat up. He was drawn to it, like the scent was a thread through his nose, pulling him forward. An interesting thing few people knew about him: he was an absolute sucker for sweets.

That, combined with the fact his stomach was now faintly rumbling from the lack of food, made him want to bash his head against the wall or pursue this scent. Sweet… He could feel his mouth watering while the gears in his mind ground against each other in their sleep-induced stupor.

His palate leafed through various memories and options, all the way back to his childhood. This sweetness, baked, with this slight bite… Of course! Cinnamon. Cinnamon buns; it had to be. Itachi could have died inside with the craving that gripped him, but he was a man who prided himself on his restraint. Besides, it was not as if he could do anything… He did not know anyone who lived here, and it was a ludicrous thought to entertain, that he could simply invite himself in to someone's home.

The young man pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh before withdrawing from the wall, realizing with a shake of his head his feet, driven by hunger, had carried him here. No, there was no use thinking on how much he would have liked to have sweets; he had more work to do regardless. Itachi turned on his heel, strode to the door, and made his way downstairs and to his car.

As he studied the expensive sports car—lucky for him it had been a gift that could not be taken back—in the lot, standing as if it had been equipped with jets and a laser among the beaten-down other cars, he considered that he should perhaps find a better place for it. The neighborhood was not terrible, but his car was just tempting, relatively unguarded in an open lot. Ah well—there were other things to worry about besides his superfluously luxurious vehicle. It was just a tantalizing reminder of his previous life now.

Itachi nodded politely but almost curtly at the woman in the apartment building's office as he passed, and pushed open the door to make his way to his car. Reaching into his pocket, he unlocked the doors without removing the keys; he was rewarded with a flicker of the car's lights and a soft chirping sound. His shoes made nary a sound on the chipped asphalt as he made his way over to the car, and he glanced around, wary, before opening the door.

His reaction to seeing a single box left was mixed. He was almost finished moving—just this final one to bring up—but it also meant this was becoming more of a reality and he would no longer have distractions save for unpacking. But the young man dreaded that—it meant only that this was final. He was stuck here, on his own, until he could graduate and establish himself.

The Uchiha slid the box to the edge of the seat and hoisted it up. The weight was noticeable, even to his toned body, and the corners of the box dug into his abdomen while the top concealed his vision a bit. A soft grunt passed his lips as he closed the door with his knee. He leaned his weight on the car, the box on his knee, and fumbled around until he heard the locks slide shut with a click. Growling to himself, he pushed away from the door and made his way back to the apartment.

Somehow, he freed his hands enough to open the front door of the building, and he staggered inside. To say it was uncomfortable to strain his neck around the box to see was an understatement, but he made do. By memory, he navigated his way to the stairs, focusing intently on his task of making his way up the three flights to his room without tripping.

Sweat beaded lightly at his brow; his breathing was carefully controlled. Dark eyes were focused straight ahead, on the box, while his feet strained forward to get a firm hold on each step. Another set of footsteps echoed him from behind, nearly startling him when they continued to echo through the desolate stairwell when he stopped triumphantly at the door to his hall. As the sound slowed to a stop behind him, he wondered fleetingly how he would manage the task of opening the heavy door.

"Need some help?"

Itachi sucked in his breath sharply as he tried to keep a hold of the box; his heart had leapt up into his throat. "Yes, that would be nice…"

Sometimes, being too intently focused was a bad thing. Almost sheepishly, he stepped back away from the door to allow the woman passage while she opened the door for him. His lips parted as he studied her: petite, faintly curvy, with a shock of pink hair and the most beautiful, kind green eyes he had ever seen…

The door squeaked softly on its hinges when she opened it, and Itachi quickly passed through the threshold before glancing over at her. She smiled at him, causing his heart to inwardly melt, as his face remained impassively unchanging.

"Thank you…" His voice was calm despite his burning curiosity.

"No problem." Her eyes sparkled, and there was almost a laugh in her voice when she brushed past him. "See you around."

He felt some hope return to his life when she procured a key and headed inside the room next to him—the one who had not made a sound, the one from which that inebriating, sweet smell was coming from.

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The rumbling in his stomach had gotten worse, and to the point where he could no longer block it out with the power of his will. The sweet smell had only gotten more prevalent, stronger, and more delectable as time went on. These accursedly thin walls let the scent freely pour through the ventilation system, and he could nearly hear the sound of the oven opening.

He assured himself that he would not impose on his pretty neighbor because he was hungry, but even the impassive Uchiha was beginning to find that 'noble' notion less and less likely. Besides… Could it not also be for the sake of getting to know her—at least her name?

Itachi straightened from his slumped position in his chair and lifted his forehead from his fingers. So be it—he would be a cordial neighbor and introduce himself. He stood to his full height and opened the door with an impulsive confidence he rarely mustered—he was never one to act unpremeditated. It seemed, though, like most men, he thought almost wryly, that could be remedied with the prospect of food and a pretty face.

He stood before her door, barely a few feet from his own, and drew in his breath. This would not be so hard. Carefully, the young man raised his fist and rapped lightly on the door. Barely ten seconds passed before the door cracked open slightly, and green eyes were touched slightly with confusion when they met obsidian.

Despite it, the door swung open to reveal her, dressed in black leggings and a loose silk patterned robe that hinted only at her body—and also, though he definitely did not study in detail, the splash of color of a shirt beneath it. His subconscious mourned. Even so, a flush of sheepishness seeped up to her ears.

"Good evening… I wanted to introduce myself. I am Uchiha Itachi." The cool tenor of his voice concealed any misgivings perfectly.

She leaned against the doorframe, and her lower lip was barely sucked in while she worried it a moment. "Itachi," she repeated slowly, her smile faint. "Nice to meet you; I'm Haruno Sakura."

Het introduction, at least, had some vigor in it. The handsome man she had helped earlier was now at her door, and she _so_ was not prepared for this. She could only grin stupidly while he nodded slowly. These men… they were all damnable brick walls. Little did she know he had to clench his fist for a moment to keep it at his side—not from scratching the back of his neck.

Silence stretched out for a brief moment as their eyes met and clashed in nervousness, obvious on one, concealed on the other, of an immediate attraction.

"So…" Sakura cleared her throat and shook her head. "Do you wanna come in or something?"

Itachi snapped to attention at the invitation. "Yes… That would be nice." In close up, she was more lovely, and that, combined with the scent of cinnamon now assaulted him and his focus.

She opened the door, almost a bit warily, and thought back fleetingly on how maybe she was taught some distant time in the past that letting strangers into one's home was a bad idea. But, despite the fact she had long since grown out of her gushing schoolgirl stage, this man was undeniably hot.

The two of them went inside, and Sakura gazed upon him. His jaw was so perfectly shaped, his features high and sculpted—he looked almost like royalty… Then there was that hair, long but somehow fitting and almost nicer than hers… Was she jealous? Those eyes… Deep and blue close up. And she could only imagine his body beneath his clothes: just a button down shirt and jeans.

Oh, damn. She blinked owlishly at him when he studied her almost incredulously. Now it was her turn to be ashamed from staring. Grinning and letting out a nervous laugh, she moved to the kitchen to busy herself. She opened the oven just a bit and did not notice when the footsteps behind her grew louder.

"You are making cinnamon buns," he remarked. There was almost fascination on his face.

"Oh, yeah…"

"I was wondering—I hope it does not sound odd, but…"

"No, no! I know—the vents…"

"And the walls, yes…"

Suddenly, they were very close, and Sakura paled in shock and paradoxically blushed, just after, in embarrassment at their proximity. And Itachi could not help but feel exceedingly uncomfortable at their mutual, powerful attraction, as well as that oh-so-smooth exchange on how he had let slip he had been wondering about her, indirectly, all day…

The pink-haired girl glanced away, peered up at him enticingly through mascara-blackened lashes, and then quickly turned to retrieve the tray of cinnamon buns from her oven. Quietly, she let out an 'mm' of satisfaction. The smell was divine, and they looked perfect… She, clearly, was not the only one admiring the sticky treat.

Despite her bout of timidity, she turned to face the man and grinned slowly. "Do you want one, Itachi?"

Inwardly, he glowed. "Yes, please."

She let them cool for only a bit before placing two on separate plates. She handed him one and guided him over to her couch. He noted the furnishing was humble but not quite as deplorable as his own home. Perhaps it was a feminine touch… Something he lacked, clearly. Brushing the thought off, Itachi took a bite and closed his eyes to conceal how his pupils faintly dilated. Sweets were such a guilty pleasure…

"This is… amazing," he confessed at last. "They taste as good as they smell."

Sakura beamed and blushed with demure pleasure. "Thanks… I love cooking and cinnamon is one of my favorite smells… I just had a craving for sweets; I love them."

"As do I, actually."

"Ah, then we've got something in common, hmm?" She smirked very slightly and nudged him with her elbow, to which he blinked slowly at. Her attitude was rather refreshing, he found; such an uplifting contrast to his own bleak outlook.

"Yes… We should do this more often maybe," Itachi replied lowly, and there was a rare touch of playfulness in his deep voice.

"Sounds good to me." She nibbled on her own dessert and looked over at him pensively, as if trying to figure out a puzzle. Finally, she asked, "Why did you move here? I feel like this is a… weird place for you, somehow."

He sighed heavily. "I was thrown out of my home. This was the best I could find."

A small frown creased her lips. "I'm sorry."

Though he could feel the genuine sentiment from her, he shook his head. It wasn't good to dwell on such things, decidedly. "It is fine, really. I will make do."

She took the hint and offered another faint smile. "Yeah, you have your neighbor to bake for you now. 's not all bad."

Itachi let out a soft chuckle and he placed the plate on the coffee table beside the couch. "That is true."

She, too, placed the plate on top of his and took them both to the sink. The sound of running water reached his ears as he studied the spot where she had just been sitting. No, things really weren't terrible… Cobalt eyes flicked upwards when she took her seat next to him.

It was rare that Uchiha Itachi be gripped with impulse—not two times in one day! But she was kind, and she was lovely… And their mutual attraction was painfully obvious…

"You okay?"

He snapped to attention and nodded. "Thank you, again… It was good."

"No problem…" Uncertainty played upon the notes of her voice. What was that expression on his face for…?

Her heart raced when he moved closer. "Itachi… What are you doing…?"

His arms closed her in, his hand resting on the couch's armchair. Their eyes met, their breaths mingled… And though he could see the surprise in her eyes, nothing about her spoke of resistance. The heats of their body melded and soothed her, and she rested her hands on his chest, debating whether or not to push him away.

Then, his lips touched hers and all thoughts of rejection were sucked from her mind. Her body relaxed while she curled her fingers into his shirt. Both their eyes fluttered closed while their vitals synced in the closeness. Sakura was not sure if the time where his lips caressed hers, where his tongue coaxed hers to play, where his scent dizzied her and the taste of cinnamon buns and something distinctly his own was a matter of seconds or hours…

Slowly, he drew back so that his lips rested at the shell of her ear. She trembled. "I think I like cinnamon best that way, though…" His voice sounded so confident, so sexy and low…

Her heart leapt wildly in his chest when he rose from the couch, cast her a charming smile, and calmly walked out the door. Itachi… A dreamy look settled over her face. So handsome, such a good kisser… And so confident.

Little did she know Itachi nearly passed out from his own audacity as soon as he stumbled into his own room.

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I hope you enjoyed it. Do review if you'd like; I always appreciate it. :3


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